A Deal Made in Darkness
by VuDu DawL
Summary: Has Azazela succumbed to the demonic influences, or is she just a grieving mother? Portions of this story were written by Troy A. Stanton  the character of Ghost Thief used by his kind permission.


She sat down next to the roaring fire and shook the snowflakes from her hair. They turned to droplets of water then sizzled into non-existence as they were flung into the flaming pyre.

With a gloved hand, she pulled the slightly damp blonde tresses away from her sparkling blue eyes. Her thin armor only served to accentuate the chill in the frosty air. She was glad she'd had the foresight to forego her usual lacy camisole for the warmth of soft fleece long underwear beneath the cold metal. She sipped slowly at a fragrant Vanilla Chai latte and looked around. The chalet was fairly deserted at this early hour.

The job opportunities had proved to be a pleasant diversion from her usual beat in Warburg. This also served to contribute to domestic peace, as her mate and partner did not mind her forays into the frozen area of the Shard the way he did her more dangerous jobs in the border isles.

Looking out over the pure white mantle that covered the slopes, she sighed and took another deep draught of the warm tea. A deep voice behind her broke her silent contemplation and nearly caused her to shower herself in the sticky sweetness of her beverage.

"Excuse me," he said, in a smooth voice. "I didn't mean to startle you. Is this seat taken?" He motioned to the expanse of the sofa that remained unoccupied beside her.

She shook her head and motioned with her hand to indicate that he was welcome to make use of the empty seating.

She stole a glance at him. His garb was a dark cloak with a thick hood that shrouded his features. His eyes glittered in the shadows beneath the dark mantle. She nodded politely and took another long sip of her latte.

"You working for the old man?" he queried, jerking a gloved thumb in the direction of the ancient being that stood watch in the far corner of the loft.

She nodded, "I have been, yes."

"Perhaps we could join forces, even if it is just temporarily," he suggested in silken tone. "I think there would be considerably more profit to gain than if we work alone."

Cocking her head to one side, she studied him intently. Both his appearance and her instincts warned her that he was no Paragon City resident, and thus was most likely part of the contingent from the Rogue Isles that found the lucrative job opportunities enough of a temptation to lure them to into taking this legitimate seasonal employment.

She stared deep into the rich brown swirls of her fragrant latte while she contemplated his suggestion. There were mechanics in place, within this particular dimensional pocket, that prevented him from presenting any direct threat to her. She came to the conclusion that there would be little risk in accepting his offer.

She turned to face him with a curt nod. "Would you care to assist me?"

He knew she had to be the one. She was exactly as Lady Naimah had described. She was tall, svelte but busty, clad in armor, and bearing the curved ram-like horns that marked her as being of demonic origins. As he eyed her from beneath his hooded cloak, he noted the incredible similarities between his oft-times cohort, Lady Naimah, and this being. This creature was, however, dissimilar in as many ways. While Naimah was overbearing and loud, this one's voice was soft and gentle. Unlike Naimah's black, soulless gaze, this one had eyes that sparkled like cerulean crystals. He suspected there was much more behind Naimah's request for him to simply gather information on this stunning creature than she let on. The price she was willing to pay him for his services, however, forced him to swallow that suspicion.. After all, Naimah had merely asked him to work with this demoness Azazela, and come back to her with an accurate assessment of her skills, strengths, and weaknesses. That didn't seem like too difficult a job considering the compensation she was offering.

"Let's just say my services are available," he answered with a grin.

The snow crunched beneath her boots as they trudged towards the door that would take them to a small rift in the dimension that held a snowbound instance of the mystical Croatoa. He pushed open the heavy stone door and bowed as he motioned her to precede him. She focused her thoughts for a moment, wrapping the light around herself, and simply vanished. He smiled as he followed her. Taking this task at the bidding of the vile demoness had been a wise move on his part. Not only would he profit handsomely from the work at hand, but he would be doubly rewarded when he returned to Naimah with the information she was seeking.

It only took a few minutes of quiet observation for him to decide that this creature was not to be taken lightly. She appeared to have the ability to enter the minds of other weaker beings, instilling emotions ranging from dire agony, to blinding pain, to debilitating confusion. He shuddered to think what being on the receiving end of her attentions must be like. They hadn't worked together for longer than a few minutes before she had projected a small horde of manifestations that seemed to approach a threshold of realism that allowed them to actually physically assault their foes. He followed her closely, making careful mental notes of her skills and tactics. Suddenly, she turned to him, and blasted him with a wall of energy that nearly put him off balance. It startled him at first but within seconds he felt a sudden rush of adrenalin coursing through his body like he'd never felt before. She followed that with a rush of pure strength that made him feel almost godlike.

She watched over him, using her magic to heal and strengthen him. His skills were unlike any she'd encountered in her previous endeavors, she noted as she watched him cast powerful tendrils of dark energy that quickly enveloped his foe and flung him, spinning, into the air. Rendered harmless, the enemy was then easily defeated.

"You wield a blade, yet control, also," she mused, quietly.

He turned to her and nodded. "Let's just say I've had my soul kissed fairly hard."

She shuddered at the implication but thought it best to let the subject drop.

They worked quietly together for most of the day. Late in the afternoon, she suggested they take a short break to get some refreshments, and gather strength. Feeling a bit hungry and tired, he nodded his agreement.

Returning to the loft at the chalet, they ordered drinks and chose from the meager offering of food that was standard fare at most bar type establishments. She sat at one end of the long leather sofa near the roaring fire and nibbled delicately at the hamburger which she'd ordered extra rare. He grimaced as she wiped a tiny drop of blood from her chin. The care and feeding of demons was something he found rather distasteful. He turned his attention to his own food, finishing his hotdog and letting out a soft belch of satisfaction.

She sipped gingerly at the mug of frothy cocoa she cradled in her gloved hands. He met her eyes for a moment and gave her a small, disarming smile. It never hurt to be nice, he told himself. Even if it is only in pretense to gain the trust of your intended victim.

She returned his smile with a curt nod and slight smile of her own as she mentally calculated her share of the profit for their days work. "We have done well this day," she said aloud, more to herself than to him.

"Mmhmm," he murmured in agreement.

They sat in contemplative silence for a while until she stood abruptly and walked to the railing that overlooked the gleaming snowy slope. She wasn't sure when the scheme first presented itself to her subconscious. Perhaps it was observing his incredible skill. Perhaps it was fate. But suddenly she found herself contemplating the idea of enlisting the help of this rogue thief in answering a question that had been long burning within her. This was a question that drove her to risk the peace in her domestic life as she regularly returned, against her partner's wishes, to the small islands at the fringes of the mysterious Rogue Isles. The question that she held secretly deep within her heart, it was a burning desire to know what had become of her accursed firstborn child.

Her voice wavered as she nervously tried to make small talk. "It is quite pleasant here."

"If winter's chill is your thing," he retorted.

"I find it refreshing," she exhaled in a puff of steamy breath. "I do not often get to experience this thing called 'snow'. I find it pleasing."

"I'll take your word for it," he said dryly as he moved closer to the warmth of the fire.

She turned and looked at him. His back was to her as he basked in the warmth of the fire.. It was clearly apparent that he was no hero. He was obviously one from among the throngs of "Destined Ones" who were drawn here by the easy money to be made. As such, this meant he would have carte blanche to roam the treacherous Rogue Isles as he wished. Especially with his ability to remain unseen, she noted. But how could she approach him with such a request?

Her instincts prodded her to simply dismiss the idea. It was foolish, she told herself, and she was certain that Cale would not approve. Still, the lingering thought prodded at her conscience. Slowly she began to form a plan.

"Does it snow where you are from?" she asked him, trying to maintain a casual tone.

"I don't pay any attention to it," he answered noncommittally.

"Where do you live?" she blurted, not really meaning to be so suddenly intrusive.

"Elsewhere," he answered as he shot a suspicious glance at her. It didn't pay to let others garner too much information, no matter how innocuous it might seem at the time.

She followed him as he approached to the bar for a refill. Looking over his shoulder, she peered at his ID card as he flashed it to the bartender.

"So can I assume from your threat classification, that you work mostly in the Rogue Isles?" she blurted.

He turned and met her gaze, which was no small feat considering at nearly eight feet tall she towered over him. "Threat classification? How quaint." His voice had a keen edge of sarcasm. "I suppose Longbow might have a file on me," he added with a shrug, as he picked up his drink and returned to basking in the warmth of the roaring fire.

She followed him back to the couch and sat down very close. "I work there, occasionally. I often hire out the in areas known as the border isles… Bloody Bay, and Warburg," she told him in a soft, hushed tone.

He barely glanced over at her as he shrugged and murmured, "Hope you enjoy it."

"Not particularly," she admitted. "But it is a living. I have a… family… of sorts… to support. And now a young daughter…" Her voice trailed as she realized she was probably revealing far too much.

"Not to sound rude," he interrupted, "but I'm not exactly a psychologist. If you want therapy, you should confess your sins to a priest."

"This has nothing to do with sin," she responded. "Confessing sin to a human is an exercise in futility, for only the Creator shall stand in judgment of the humans."

His distaste for all things religious urged him to quickly redirect the conversation but he found himself adding, "If it has nothing to do with sin, odds are it's not going to pay very well."

She blinked hard and sat up straight. "I beg your pardon. I am paid well for my work and it involves no sin."

He exhaled softly. "To each their own profession, then."

"And your profession involves sinning in order to profit?" she asked with an almost accusatory edge to her soft voice.

He looked her in the eyes. "Let's just say the local law enforcement doesn't approve of my occupation."

She lowered her gaze. "I am not fit to be your judge. Only you can determine if your deeds will prove right or wrong."

Azazela studied him closely for a few long moments as they sat together in quiet contemplation. This banter was getting her nowhere fast. She swallowed hard as she worked up the nerve to question him directly. Finally she spoke in hesitant syllables. "So… if … you work in the Rogue Isles…perhaps… you… know of one… called… Naimah?"

For a brief second he bristled. Quickly he masked his emotions, but to the scrutinizing gaze of the elder demoness the microsecond of tension meant she'd hit a nerve.

He stared down at the crackling fire in front of them and said in an almost flat voice, "If she works for Arachnos, unlikely."

"I assume," she interposed, "that everyone there must work for Arachnos at times."

"Too many freelancers to keep track of," he shrugged. "I tend to mind my own business when taking care of it. And of what concern is some two-bit villainess to you?"

She squirmed visibly, "She is… someone I once knew. I am merely curious as to how she has fared."

"Try putting an ad in the paper," he retorted with a sarcastic tone.

Blushing, she averted her gaze and dropped her voice. "I do not believe that would accomplish anything." She paused and drew a deep breath. "We… parted…on rather unpleasant terms."

"Can't win them all," he said, flatly.

She nodded sadly. They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. Finally, her quiet voice broke through the silence. "Do you wish to join my in my work this evening?"

He shot her a cynical gaze. "That depends on the work and on the compensation."

"As you have seen, the work is slightly dangerous," she said. "But the compensation has been better than average."

He nodded. He had to admit, she was right. He stood and knocked back the last of his drink and without a word leapt over the railing and towards the location of their next assignment. She pulled herself up to her full, imposing height and arched her back as she used her demonic energies to refract the light around her. With a soft swish, she leapt the rail and took flight in the direction he'd gone.

Several hours later, she sat alone in the loft of the chalet, pondering the morals of her new acquaintance. He seemed driven by a strong profit motive but very cautious at the same time. She wondered just how much profit it would take in order to overcome his suspicions.

As she sat beside the fire absorbed in her own troubled thoughts, she failed to notice the petite brunette who'd sidled up to the bar. The slight girl ordered a stiff drink then turned to survey the occupants of the loft. Dodging the attentions of a leering scrapper, the girl made her way silently to the side of the statuesque demoness.

"Lady Azazela." She spoke her greeting in a reverent tone with a bow of her head. Azazela jerked her head up to meet the big dark eyes of the small, lithe demoness. "Hello, Syn." Even though she manifested herself in a purely human form, Az recognized the young creature. Syn was a succubus, not one of the ancient beings, but a created demon with a special purpose. Known amongst their fellow beings as the "dream stealers," they had powers to control the minds of men in ways that often appeared quite pleasant at the outset. 

Syn smiled warmly. "Hello, Az. Fancy meeting you here. What brings you to the frozen slopes? I will assume it isn't a desire to learn the finer points of skiing."

"No at all," Az said with a wry grin. "Work, of course. It seems like there is always something in the base that needs upgraded or repaired. And Adara…" her voice trailed.

Syn nodded sympathetically. "I have no children, but I can only imagine that they must require a good bit of upkeep. I, myself, have come here seeking gain. Sent by the dear doctor," she added with a deep sigh and a roll of her dark eyes. The sarcasm dripping from the last two words was thicker than molasses would be in this cold clime.

Azazela felt a wave of pity for the young demoness. She knew that Syn was bound to serve the evil Doctor Maritus and the head of his small coven of followers. However, in a world where few things are clearly black or white, Syn was a shade of gray. She was not the creature of evil one might imagine her to be.

"You look as though something is bothering you." Syn looked up at the towering blonde with eyes full of concern.

"I suppose there is…" Az looked pensively out over the expanse of crystal white that covered the rolling slopes.

"Let me buy you a drink," Syn offered. "Perhaps it would make you feel better to talk about it."

Azazela was not normally given to consuming intoxicating libations. She looked over at the barmaid who was cheerfully serving the last few stragglers who were returning to the chalet after a long day of enjoying the frosty ambience in one way or another. Syn gently took her by the hand and led her towards the bar.

"What'll you have?" the barmaid asked as they approached.

Syn sat her now empty glass down on the bar. "Do you have cocoa?" she asked.

"Of course! That is one of our most popular items!" the barmaid answered brightly. "And I just made a fresh pot."

Syn inhaled catching a whiff of the rich, dark chocolate mingling with the fresh scent of the crisp snowy air. "Mmm. Do you have honeyed liqueur?" she asked.

The barmaid turned and looked over the bottles behind her. "Yes, it looks like we do."

"Give us two mugs of cocoa and add a healthy shot of honey liqueur to each, then," Syn answered with a wide smile.

Syn paid for the drinks, picked up both mugs and headed for a secluded seat in a corner of the loft. She sat a mug in front of Azazela and held her own in her small hands. The warmth felt delightful to her cold, tingling fingers. They sipped the rich drinks slowly savoring the incredible sweetness.

"Will you share with me what it is that has you so troubled?" Syn asked gently.

Az paused for a moment as she studied the way her fingers wrapped around the texture of the heavy stoneware mug. Slowly she nodded. "I met someone this morning."

Syn blinked hard as her jaw dropped in utter shock. "It was my understanding that you had remained loyal to your human mate, the Archmage."

Az shook her head emphatically. "No, it is nothing like that. This one is a thief, from the Rogue Isles. We worked together much of this day. His skills were… most impressive." She paused as if she were carefully formulating her next thought. "I began to think of… my firstborn."

Syn nodded. She knew the history behind Naimah's conception and birth. She knew much of Azazela's history. Few demons didn't. The ongoing battle that had raged even unto the very pits of Hell was something that would not be soon forgotten.

"I was considering that perhaps he might be of some use in gathering… information… on what has become of her, these days."

Syn grimaced. "Are you sure that is wise?"

"I do not wish to confront her again. I know there can be nothing but animosity between us. I just wonder…"

"I understand. I would gather information for you, but Naimah views me most contemptuously. She has no use for someone with my lack of standing within the legions of the Dark One. She wouldn't give me the time of day, let alone any kind of details concerning her current situation."

Az frowned. Most demons were obsessed with their place among the Hierarchy. It was a constant source of infighting amongst the legions. The minor created demons such as succubi and imps were considered to be inferior and not worthy of any sort of ranking amongst the 'true' demons, by those who held standing within the ranks of Hell. They were looked upon as no more than mere servants and often treated with disdain. 

She, on the other hand, had eschewed her place in the Hierarchy and turned her back on her heritage. Syn looked upon Azazela with the same respect she showed to any demon of status, even thought Az herself refused to acknowledge her position as part of her father's bloodline.

Azazela felt a pang of sympathy for the petite and attractive creature. She gave Syn a small smile and shook her head. "I feel this thief might hold the key to finding out what has become of … my child," she continued quietly. "I am just not sure how to convince him to assist me."

"Money talks…" Syn began. "I have found most thieves to be creatures of opportunity. Perhaps we might offer him something that appeals to his desire for gain." She paused for a moment as she concentrated. "I could try to seduce him into accepting some sort of deal." 

Azazela shook her head. "He doesn't seem to be the type that is prone to that particular weakness. Even so, I would not ask that of you."

Syn laughed. "It is my purpose. The whole reason I was created was for such deeds."

Az closed her eyes for a moment. "As was I... however… I would rather find some way to appeal to his sense of…"

"Greed?" Syn finished her sentence with a smile as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "There is a rumor that a certain commodity that is not too common within Paragon City, has made its way, via some…" she coughed lightly, "… rather enterprising methods, to the Rouge Isles. Due to the tight security imposed by Arachnos, who feel they must have their hands on everything that might bring profit or power, they must be carefully smuggled into the Rogue Isles. It involves a good deal of risk. But the rare items are worth enough to interest even the most avaricious."

"And this commodity," Azazela asked her quietly, "is something I can procure in Paragon City?"

"It is not something that is easily obtained. It requires you have the means and the assistance to face down one of the most formidable creatures that threatens this world: the entity known as the Hamidon."

Azazela's head jerked up as if she'd been slapped. "The Hamidon…" she whispered breathlessly. "I know him well."

Syn gave her a puzzled look.

"Due to my particular… skills," Az went on to explain in low voice, "I am frequently called upon to assist in battling the Hamidon."

Syn grinned widely. "Then I supposed you have a great deal of the small fragments of his essence?"

"Not so many as I used to," Az answered softly. "I have given many to my partner in order to strengthen his abilities."

Syn raised her eyebrows with a lusty grin, and Azazela added primly, "In battle."

"Well, I have heard rumors," Syn continued as she lowered her voice to a near whisper, "that these small but powerful enchantments bring quite the price. I would think this would appeal to even the most discriminating thief."

"But how can I offer these to him?"

"Leave that to me," Syn answered with a sly wink.

Azazela spent the next few minutes in quiet contemplation. "The risks seem very great. However… perhaps there is some chance I might find out what has become of my… of Naimah."

Syn knew this decision must be an agonizing one. For a brief moment she weighed the consequences of her part in the outcome of this situation. With a deep sigh, Az stood and stretched herself to her imposing nearly eight foot height. She turned towards the expanse of crystalline snow. 

The small demoness closed her eyes and felt a strange chill course through her that had nothing to do with the frigid air blowing in from the frozen landscape.

"We would both hang for this if caught. Well, not you, literally…" she paused as Azazela's creamy skin turned a whiter shade of pale at the thought of what Lord Recluse's Arachnos forces might do to the little succubus were they to catch on to their deeds.

Az swallowed hard. Part of her knew that this was so wrong. But the part of her that was torn away when she had to send her firstborn from her presence surfaced in her psyche like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. As hard as she tried to suppress it, the temptation urged her to follow the course that would lead her down a darkened path she was fated to travel.

The succubus saw the turbulent storm of emotions churning within the crystal blue eyes of her tormented blonde companion. "If you could get the items to me, I could complete the transaction, with very little risk to you."

"And what about yourself? What if Arachnos were to catch you in possession of these items?" Az aired her concerns aloud with a trembling voice.

"It wouldn't be the first time I have found myself on the wrong side of Arachnos. And it surely won't be the last." Syn smiled up at the elder demoness. "Look, I am willing to do whatever I can to help you, Az. You decide if this is a risk you want to take."

Az sat her mug on the small table with pained expression and a small nod to the little succubus. "Shall I find you here on the morrow? I shall think this over tonight."

"Of course."

Azazela bade her goodbye and walked out onto the stairs, launching herself into the cold breeze as she headed back to the warmth of the club and passageway back to Kings Row.

There was no sleep for her that night. The apartment was empty as Adara was off at school. Cale had been occupied with his own business and had not visited her in almost a fortnight. She tossed and turned in the darkened room, struggling with the morality of her impending actions.

As the first pale light of dawn began to creep over the dark horizon she slipped from her bed and silently dressed. The threads of daybreak found her sitting in the chalet. She was lost in her own thoughts as she sat gazing out towards the frozen landscape. She felt the light touch of the delicate fingers on her shoulder as she spun around to face the small brunette.

"You couldn't sleep either?" Syn said with a worried look. Azazela was beginning to look positively haggard.

She shook her head slowly. Her eyes darted around as she made sure that none of the other early birds were within earshot. "I have them."

Syn's eyes opened wide for a split second. Azazela reached out and took Syn's slender hands in her own, squeezing them tightly. Once she released her grip, the tiny baubles were in Syn's warm palm with no one being the wiser.

The temptation to steal a glance at the items was overwhelming but as a being who knew that temptation was the first step towards ruin, she resisted. With one fluid movement she slid her hands casually into the pockets of her long coat. Her curiosity could wait until she was far from any prying eyes. To a casual observer, they were two female friends exchanging a tender greeting in the chilly morning.

"Do you think this offering will convince him to assist me?" Az asked nervously.

"Let's call it a hunch," Syn said with a sly wink. "There are two things human men want. One is power. The other is what one might call a reward of having power." She smiled wickedly. "I am sure one or the other will prove too tempting for him to resist."

Azazela's brow furrowed as she reached out to hug the petite succubus. "You are taking a great risk on my behalf. I don't know how I can thank you for helping me."

The smile vanished from the brunette's face as her tone turned suddenly somber. "Remember me, when all is finished."

Az shot her a puzzled glance. "What do you mean?"

"Just remember me. There will come a day when you will be in a position to help me. Of that I am certain," Syn replied in a rather ominous tone. With a wave of her hand, Syn motioned Az towards the club. "Go, now. I will send word when I have arranged to meet with our little thief."

Azazela nodded. Her heart was racing so hard she felt as though she could hear its echo within her armor. Silently she made her way back home, praying that Cale would not be there. She could not bear to lie to him, but did not wish to have to explain her actions, either. The apartment was cold and empty when she arrived. She made her way inside and walked straight through to her bedroom. She felt so incredibly exhausted that she no sooner pulled off her armor than she collapsed on the bed and was fast asleep.

It is said that troubled dreams spring forth from a guilty conscience. She awoke bathed in sweat. The bedclothes were torn from the bed and mostly on the floor. She stumbled into the bathroom and leaned over the cold porcelain finish of the cast iron tub. The water jetted forth in an icy torrent that she redirected with her hands to splash across her face.

The nightmares were coming more frequently as of late. She swallowed the bitter bile of fear that coated the back of her tongue and tried to convince herself that it was only a dream. However, the niggling little voice in the back of her mind refused to accept it as anything less than a dire omen.

Dusk was beginning to settle over the rundown streets of Kings Row as she walked slowly towards the club entrance. She slipped into the club and found a quiet corner where she could try to sort out her thoughts. The mindless bass beat of the music had an almost numbing effect on her uneasy thoughts. She had no idea how much time had passed before she saw the petite succubus approaching. 

"I thought I'd find you here," Syn said with a smile. "He really isn't very friendly, you know."

"The thief?" Az queried.

Syn nodded. "He seemed very reluctant to meet with me. I did not implicate you. He only knows that I wish to meet with him tonight in the Tiki Room. Its dark ambiance lends easily to such deeds as this."

"Do you think he intends to follow through?" Az asked, anxiously.

"I believe, having a very intimate knowledge of the workings of the mind of the human male, that his curiosity shall not allow him to do otherwise," Syn retorted with a knowing smile.

Several hours later, the girls sat in the darkest corner of the Tiki lounge, listening to the almost hypnotic tribal drums when they noticed a dark cloaked figure slip in through the back entrance and look furtively around the room.

He had almost refused the invitation. The succubus seemed rather insistent, however, and slightly nervous. She refused to tell him the purpose of the meeting but demanded that he meet her at an unusually early morning hour, at a table in a darkened corner of the new and exclusive Tiki Room inside the club known as Pocket D. In the end, his acute sense of impending profit drove him to comply with her request.

He felt a little more than mildly uncomfortable when he arrived at the club in the pre-dawn hours, and saw the statuesque blonde heroine standing behind the seated succubus. "Come," Syn said softly, "sit with us."

He eyed them both suspiciously but moved slowly forward and eased himself into the seat across from the tiny demoness.

Syn's nimble fingers moved so quickly he barely noticed the four tiny trinkets she spread out on the table between them. She looked him in the eyes. "Interested?" she asked seductively as she waved her hands over the gleaming baubles that seemed to glow slightly in the shadows surrounding the small party.

He stared long and hard at the four golden 'coins' she placed on the table in front of him. Each one consisted of a metal ring with a tiny multicolored blob of goo suspended in the middle, a miniscule fragment of one of the most dangerous... and powerful... entities on the planet. A piece of the Hamidon.

"How...?" His eyes were like saucers as he looked incredulously from the succubus to the towering demoness standing behind her.

Syn shook her head. "We have our ways. The Lady Azazela is in need of some information regarding a certain demoness of your acquaintance. She is willing to furnish these as a down-payment towards your gathering that information for her. I am sure we can procure more as your needs arise. Does this offer appeal to you?"

They both watched him so intensely they could almost hear the wrenching decision churning within his troubled thoughts.

_Such things were extremely hard to find in this part of town, and thus were worth quite a high price. I'm not sure I would be able to find a buyer for them, but I'm not sure I'd have the heart to try to fence them either. Very powerful little things, those Hamidon cells... and at price that is rarely paid for in coin._

_Betrayal is a nasty business, one that impacts not just your sterling reputation but the rest of your career as well. Some nights I can hear Belladonna's bitter words ringing in my ears as I did Arbiter Daos' bidding, and believe me when I say it is not a pleasant memory to have to remember._

The two females watched the range of emotions filter across his visage as he struggled under the weight of his decision. In the end, as Syn predicted, the spirit if avarice was strong and he succumbed to its powerful enticement.

He nodded his head silently as he extended his fingers towards the glistening tokens. With an uncanny flash of speed, Syn interjected her fingers between his own and his prize. "Not so fast, my friend. First, there is an order of business we must discuss." She deferentially nodded to the elder demoness.

Azazela paused for moment to collect her thoughts. The guilt of what she was about to do lay heavy on her mind, but far heavier was a burden she had carried in her heart for a much longer time. "I… need to know… of the one known as Naimah," she said in a trembling voice. "I need to know where she is, and what has become of her. And if it be possible…" she paused and met the eyes of the thief, "I would like to lay eyes upon her, albeit from a distance, just so that I can see for myself that she is …" Her voice cracked as she turned away.

He'd already guessed that perhaps there was some unexplained relationship between Naimah and this unlikely demonic heroine. It made him vaguely uncomfortable that neither of them saw fit to be forthright about the nature of their using him to gather information. He concluded that this could only end badly, and when it did, he wanted to be nowhere near either of them. However, his gaze kept traveling back to the tiny baubles glowing softly against the rough wood of the table. He swallowed hard as he weighed their value against the bitter taste of the unpleasantness he was sure was going to accompany his involvement in this sordid situation.

Syn's syrupy voice cut through his troubled reverie. "What do you say? Are you willing to accommodate the Lady's request? There are more of these to be had if that would help to ease whatever is troubling your conscience."

He glanced over at the tall blonde. She met his gaze through her damp lashes and nodded slowly.

He drew a deep breath. "I will get you the information you seek. I cannot guarantee your request to see her. But verifying where she is and her situation should be an easy matter for me. These will suffice as down payment. I will expect at least as much when I have completed your request. However, if for some reason you are being duplicitous with me, and this turns out to be some twisted plot to ambush this Naimah person, don't expect me to get involved. If the situation blows up in my face, I will disavow any knowledge of this meeting, and of either of you. You understand that in my business, discretion is paramount."

"Of course," Syn purred softly. "That is why we sought to employ your services."

"That is acceptable," Azazela said softly. "Then we have an agreement?"

He nodded and moved quickly to snatch the tiny tokens from the table before either of them could decide to alter their demands. He nodded towards the statuesque demoness. "I will contact you, when I have the information you desire."

With a terse nod, he rose from the table and disappeared into the shadows.

Syn looked up at her tormented friend. A mask of apprehension strained at the blonde's delicate features. "Do you think I have done something terribly wrong?" she asked in a quivering voice.

The little succubus closed her eyes for a moment. "I think," she began slowly, "that the only one who could answer such a question is you. Right and wrong is only very rarely so clear-cut. Most of the time, it remains a mosaic of subtle shades of gray. Each tiny piece must be carefully examined and weighed, and in the end, only the one who holds them within themselves can tell if they are right, wrong, or something in between."

Az dropped her head into her hands. The weight of her actions was pressing heavy upon her conscience. She suddenly felt exhausted. 

"Thank you for all you have done for me," she said quietly. "I must go now. I feel very weak."

Syn nodded her understanding and made a small bow of respect. "May all be well with you, Lady Azazela."

Az shook her head with a melancholy smile. She would prefer Syn not address her using the title she eschewed, but she knew it was purely habit for the poor little creature to follow the protocols of rank when addressing those she felt to be her superiors. "May all be well with you, Syn, my friend," she responded with a bow.

Syn's face broke into a wide, genuine smile at the word "friend". But in the back of her mind, a feeling of dark foreboding cast an eerie pall over her. She watched the tall blonde arch her back and cloak herself within the lightwaves that surrounded her.

The small brunette couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy as she made her way back to Port Oakes to the small brownstone that Syndi Johansson called home.

She landed with a soft thud next to him on the soft, wet sand near the entrance to the cave. He nodded wordlessly and ducked through the doorway as she nearly knocked him down in her haste to follow him into the darkness.

He turned and glared at her. "Settle down," he said firmly.

She returned the glare but bit her tongue and obediently fell in step with the one who had summoned her.

After a few moments of quietly traversing the dank passages, clearing them of the cultists he'd been hired to rout, he stopped in his tracks. Their work here was done, and he was seldom one to linger around after the fact, but he beckoned her to come closer.

"I have gained the information you asked me to get on the demoness Azazela," he said, in a hushed voice. As he related his experiences working with the blonde heroine, his demonic companion merely smiled, her lips curling back to reveal her gleaming fangs.

She nodded her thanks. "Tell me, little human," she asked in sultry tones, "who do you think more powerful, now that you have worked along side both of us?"

A chill ran down his spine as he instinctively knew her question wasn't a mere act of trolling for a stroke to her demonic ego.

Tactfully, he answered, "I think it would be a difficult contest. She is no lightweight."

He paused for a moment before he continued. "I have something to confess."

The towering demoness looked down at him with her eyebrows arched in a suspicious glare.

"This one you call Azazela," he began, hesitantly "has also been inquiring about you."

A look of initial shock soon morphed into one of evil glee as a realization struck her. "Oh really?" she purred. Obviously her mother's human aspect was experiencing some kind of maternal remorse over her long lost offspring. Perhaps this would be the point of weakness that would give her daughter a decisive edge against her. Her smiled curled upwards into a sneer. "And exactly what was she asking?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "Just how you were doing, and the like. She did ask if I knew where she might catch a glimpse of you," he answered.

Naimah's black eyes narrowed and glittered in the darkness as an evil smile pasted itself across her wicked countenance. "And what did you tell her?"

"I have told her nothing, yet," he said, bluntly.

"Perhaps you should," Naimah said darkly. "Perhaps you should tell her that I can be found near the outer islands at the border of the city known as Warburg."

"Have you considered the fact that she might have an ulterior and malicious motive for wanting to find you?" he countered.

"Of course I have," Naimah answered in a caustic tone. "Have you considered that this may also be the case from my perspective?"

He had a sudden feeling that this whole situation was about to turn very ugly. Years of experience in finesse and discretion taught him that it was best to be as far away as possible when things blew up, either literally or figuratively.

He swallowed hard and nodded.

"Now," she said in an almost demanding tone, "have you any further need of my services?"

He shook his head. "I am feeling weary this morning." The lie rolled off his tongue like a pearl on satin. "I think I will just head back to my humble safe house, and call it a night."

She nodded, her mind already churning with an evil plot.

"When you see Azazela next," she said, "you may tell her that you have heard a rumor that I will be on assignment for Arachnos in Warburg during the dark of the moon." Saying that, she arched her back and vanished before his eyes. He left the cave with a feeling of dark foreboding mixed with anticipation at the reward he would receive at the hands of the naive heroine.

All day, she had waited on pins and needles. When she had spied the worn enveloped that had been silently slid under the door, she sucked in a deep breath and held it as she gently pried open the sealed edge. The crisp paper dragged along the side of her long finger, slicing a thin, stinging cut in her pale flesh. A drop of warm blood trickled down to her fingertip as she read the neat block lettering and nodded her assenting to no one in particular.

The message was simple and curt. She was to meet the thief later that evening, in the same darkened corner of the club where they'd sealed their pact. Her stomach churned as she tried to suppress the anxiety and anticipation that coursed through her entire being.

She'd been on edge all week. Even Cale had noticed it last evening, with some mild irritation, as she had even seemed uneasy and distracted during their more intimate moments. With a quiet sigh, he turned away from her and pulled the covers tight around himself. He attributed it to the mysterious lunar cycle that women's bodies tended to follow. She felt an intense amount of guilt at withholding the true nature of her apprehensions from him, but justified her omission by convincing herself that it would only serve as a point of contention between them.

He'd long ago concluded that it was best to leave her to suffer the moodiness of her feminine affliction on her own. When he awoke that morning, he gently explained that he had some work to do. She gave him a pallid smile and almost absentmindedly nodded in agreement. With a gentle kiss, he disappeared into the crisp morning air as he teleported himself towards the train station.

She'd paced the confines of her flat until the muted shades of sunset filtered through the soot hanging in the thick evening air. Pushing back the shade, she watched through the grimy windows while the glowing orb slowly sank behind the silhouetted brownstones across the street. With the blood-stained paper crumpled gently in a sweaty palm, she walked slowly out into the darkening street. With deliberate steps, she made her way once more to the club. She had to suppress the urge to be physically ill as she sat in the dark corner and waited anxiously for her clandestine rendezvous. When he stepped out of the shadows next to her, she nearly fainted from the shock to her already overstressed system.

"Do you have the items?" he asked, bluntly.

She nodded wordlessly and reached down the front of her décolletage to procure a small black velvet pouch tied with a thin gold cord. She loosened the cord and with a nimble talon pulled open the top of the bag. As she gently shook it into the palm of her other hand, the tiny tokens spilled forth. His jaw nearly hit the floor as he stood agape at the handful of glowing baubles she proffered.

In a soft, quivering voice, she spoke. "I can assume you have something you wish to tell me?"

He nodded. "The one you are inquiring after…" he took a deep breath and paused dramatically, "resides in a place called Port Oakes. She actually makes her home in the southern village of Dockside. She seems to have fared quite well for herself. She is part of a band of rogues and other demons who call themselves The Fallen Angels. She exerts some sort of control over another group, one of which you may be personally familiar," he added with a sneer. "They call themselves the Betrothed."

Azazela gasped as her countenance went ashen.

He chuckled softly at her predictable reaction. "It seems that it was she who imbued the charismatic Doctor with his supernatural powers. Thus, he appears to be indentured to her service."

That would explain her great disdain for Syn, Azazela realized. Not only was she an underling in the Hierarchy, but she was a pawn belonging to one of her servants as well.

"She has grown into a rather powerful entity as of late. I have heard a rumor that even the top lieutenants of Lord Recluse himself will soon be vying for her services." He paused for a moment before adding, "She appears to be in good health. There isn't much else I can tell you."

Azazela's heart was thumping in her chest so hard she felt he must be able to hear it. Holding out her hand to him, she opened her palm and offered him the gleaming trinkets.

This was more than double the amount that they'd agreed upon, he realized with his jaw hanging near the floor, as the tiny coins tumbled into his outstretched hand.

"Thank you," Azazela murmured quietly.

His eyes darted around the dimly lit room as he leaned in so close she could feel the heat of his breath blowing against the softness of her cheek. "I also have another bit of information," he added in a hushed whisper. "This is only a rumor, however, I have heard that this Naimah has been assigned duty in Warburg, and will be stationed there during the dark of the moon."

She dropped her head into her hands to steady herself as the room began to spin. Tears stung her eyes as she blinked hard trying to stem the flow.

She nodded to him, and reached back down her décolletage a second time to procure a smaller pouch. As she drew it forth, his eyes widened as he noticed the glow that filtered even through the thickness of the dark velvet.

With trembling fingers, she fumbled with the tiny knot, and gently opened the pouch. Inside was only one of the tiny tokens, but it glowed and pulsed with an energy unlike that of the others.

Taking it in her nimble fingertips, she pressed it into his palm. He instantly felt a surge of power course through his veins as the miniscule fragment of the powerful entity touched his warm skin. This one would not be sold, of that he was certain.

Without a word, she met his eyes and nodded. She stood up and bowed politely. "I … must go," she stammered softly as she turned and rushed towards the door, vanishing into the swirling air.

He sat for several minutes just looking at the pulsating glow as he cupped his hand near him in the darkness of the secluded corner. Tucking the tiny coin back in the small pouch she'd dropped on the table, he deposited it in a pocket and quickly found his way back to St. Martial.


End file.
